Chapter Six
Willow
Willow’s heart pounded louder than her footsteps as she moved through the forest, a steady rhythm she couldn’t calm no matter how deep she breathed. The night air was crisp and cool, the trees swaying gently overhead, whispering in a language only her wolf truly understood.
She reached the edge of the clearing and stopped, half-hidden behind a thicket of ferns. Her breath caught in her throat.
He was there.
Logan stood in the center of the clearing, just as he had the night before.
Tall, broad, unmoving, like he’d been carved from the forest itself.
His silhouette was etched in moonlight, strong and sure, his posture relaxed but alert.
There was something timeless about him, something wild and ancient that didn’t belong to this world of cruel alphas and broken omegas.
He didn’t look like a predator. He looked like a sentinel. A guardian.
A mate, her wolf said. Our mate.
Willow’s fingers curled tighter around the strap of her herb basket. Old habits. Tonight was her night off from work, her favorite night of the week. The night she got to run in her wolf form. It was the night she always felt the freest, the most like her true self.
Tonight, though, her nerves danced across her skin like electricity.
She’d convinced herself all day that he wouldn’t come.
That last night had been some strange dream.
That the bond wasn’t real. But here he was.
Real, solid, and steady. Waiting for her like it meant something to him.
She almost turned around and ran. But then he looked up and her breath caught in her throat and she was suddenly rooted to the spot.
The moment his eyes found hers, something inside her shifted.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked at her.
Not like she was prey, not like she was a problem to be solved, but like she was someone.
The quiet between them was thick, charged, but not uncomfortable.
She didn’t feel hunted or small. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like she had to shrink to survive.
She felt… seen.
Willow took a hesitant step into the clearing, heart thudding, breath tight. Another step. Logan didn’t move, but something softened in his eyes. A flicker of warmth. Understanding, maybe. She used every ounce of strength she possessed to keep on moving until she was at his side.
She’d applied a healing salve to her face the night before and when she’d woken that morning, the ugly purple bruise had already started to turn green.
By the evening, right before she’d left her condo, it was barely visible.
A little foundation had ensured it couldn’t be seen at all.
Willow was relieved. She didn’t want Logan to see her looking like that.
Like a victim. Like damaged goods. Even though, really, she was both of those things.
He saw something else, something she wanted to become.
Willow had replayed their first meeting over in her mind and truth be told, she was embarrassed by it. She could only imagine what Logan thought of her. Today, she was determined to put that right.
“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and rough like river stones. A warm smile stretched across his lips and she mirrored it. “You okay?”
She lifted her chin a little and nodded. “Yes. Shall we walk?”
Her feet moved without her permission and she stepped closer to him. The proximity made a pleasant shiver roll down her spine.
“Sounds good,” Logan said.
They fell into step without speaking further, but the silence that stretched between them wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t heavy, either. Just quiet and natural.
Willow stayed a half step behind at first, out of habit more than fear. But Logan paused until she had caught up with him then they continued along the path side by side. It was strange, how easy it felt. How right.
He started talking a few minutes into the walk. Nothing too personal, which suited her just fine.
“The pines here are taller than I remember,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Or maybe it’s just me that’s grown.”
Willow didn’t answer, but she wondered if he realized how much he had just revealed with that simple sentence.
He’d been here before. And when they’d met the day before, he’d asked her if she was a part of Derek’s pack, which meant he’d either heard about the alpha or knew him personally.
Had he belonged to the pack once? Was he one of the lucky ones who had managed to get away, or had something else happened?
Had Derek driven him away? And if he had, what would he do to him for coming back?
The questions gnawed at her, but she didn’t voice them.
She wanted Logan to open up to her at his own pace.
He slowed his steps a little, casting a glance her way. “Have you ever been out to the Sawtooths?”
Willow blinked. “The mountain range?”
He nodded.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve never been anywhere outside Bitterroot.”
Something in his expression shifted, softer, but unreadable.
“I spent some time there a couple of years ago. It reminded me of here a little. It was peaceful—the perfect place to shift and run in wolf form. You’d love it.
I’ll take you there one day. If you’d like to go, I mean. I would never force you.”
Willow let herself get lost in the fantasy of traveling with Logan one day, of seeing different parts of the country, or even the world.
She liked that idea very much. But then reality came crashing back.
She would never be lucky enough to leave Bitterroot.
But she didn’t tell Logan that. It was too revealing.
“I’d like that,” she said instead.
They walked in silence for a few minutes longer, the hush of the woods wrapping around them like a cocoon.
The air smelled of pine needles and cool earth, and for once, Willow didn’t feel like she had to be small to survive in it.
Then Logan spoke again, quietly, like the words had taken their time forming.
“I’ve been living in Texas for years,” he said. “It’s where my team’s based. The man you heard call out to me yesterday? We work together… for the CIA.”
Willow blinked, startled by the revelation. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked over at him. Was he being serious? His expression didn’t change, and his gaze stayed on the path ahead.
“CIA?” she whispered.
Logan met her gaze again and nodded. It sounded impossible, the sort of story a man might make up to try to seduce a woman, but there had been nothing false in Logan’s tone, and as she held his gaze for longer, she saw only truth written in the lines of his face.
“Is that why you’re here? Were you sent here? Are you on some sort of mission?”
Logan slowed as they reached a fork in the path, his boots crunching softly on fallen needles. Then he stopped altogether, turning to face her fully. He hesitated before speaking, but a sort of resolve washed over his face and he nodded.
“Yes,” he said, his voice steady. He held her gaze with ease. “I hope I can trust you not to repeat any of this. I’m only telling you now because I think you deserve to know who I am and why I came back here.”
Willow’s pulse picked up as he hinted at it a second time. “Came back?”
Logan nodded. “I grew up in Bitterroot. This was my home once.”
“Okay,” Willow said slowly. “When did you leave?”
“Fifteen years ago,” he said. “And I didn’t leave, exactly. I ran.”
Willow’s heart started beating faster. “From what, or whom?”
He met her eyes, gaze steady. “From Derek and his enforcers. He’s the reason I lost everything.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. Willow was hanging on every word now. She nodded at him to continue, but Logan pulled in a few deep breaths before he next spoke, as if he was bracing himself for something difficult.
“My father was alpha here once,” he said. “Before Derek. Before the pack turned rotten. Derek killed him, and my mom, and very nearly killed me, but I got away from him. I ran.”
Willow sucked in a sharp breath, her heart aching for what Logan had lost.
“Alpha Walters was your father?”
Logan nodded. “Did you know him?”
She shook her head. “No, I mean, I met him once or twice when I was little, but I didn’t know him. I was nine when he was killed, too young to attend pack meetings so I rarely saw him.”
The world had seemed so big then. So safe, and exciting, waiting to be discovered.
“But I remember how different the pack was back then. People were happy. Carefree. I remember that everyone liked Alpha Walters. They respected him.”
Logan nodded. “My dad was a good leader—strong and fair. He taught me to respect the land, to protect the vulnerable, and to lead with balance. The wolves followed him because they wanted to, not because they were afraid, like they are now.”
He knew, then. Knew what Derek was like. But of course he did. How could he not after what Derek had taken from him?
“Derek wanted power,” Logan added. “He was my father’s beta, and my dad trusted him. Derek used that trust to sow division. He whispered in ears. Promised more dominance to the blood thirsty and leniency to the cruel. He got himself a band of followers who were as cruel and heartless as he is.”
Logan’s voice darkened, bitter at the edges. “He shot my dad in the chest. He was too much of a coward to fight him for alpha. He shot my mom next. I had to watch them die.”
Willow’s stomach twisted. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. How old were you?”
“Seventeen.” He looked away for a second, jaw clenched. The wind shifted, rustling the branches above them.
“After I healed, I thought about coming back. Hunting him down. But, honestly, I wouldn’t have stood a chance back then. I was a scrawny teenager and alone. No allies, no pack. And the kind of revenge I wanted… I’m pretty sure it would’ve got me killed.”
He shook his head, and Willow’s heart ached at the raw pain she saw in his eyes.